


Over the Heart

by Wind_Ryder



Series: Something New [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Family, M/M, Polyamory, Tattoos, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1606034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor likes tattoos. They write his life story over his skin. Lestrade hadn't thought Victor would get one for him, until one day Victor comes home with a new mark placed right over his heart. </p><p>Meanwhile, Sherlock really just wants to get laid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Heart

Victor liked tattoos. He really did. He thought that the permanency of them were more important than anything else, and so he told his life story on his skin. He had a half-sleeve of tea leaves fluttering on his left arm, and he had half a dozen bees buzzing about his body in different location as well. One for each year Sherlock and him were together.

 

When Lestrade joined their group, he hadn’t mentioned the tattoos. He hadn’t even asked Victor when he was going to get one that symbolized  _his_  involvement in their family either. Lestrade seemed perfectly content with the idea of just having his bond mark on the back of Victor’s neck.

 

“My Alpha.” He always said, reverently, into Victor’s ear before he sank his lips to kiss the mark he’d put there. It was always slightly faded in comparison to Sherlock’s, a confusion of genetics that couldn’t seem to work out if it should stay or go and had settled on a faint scar that never disappeared, and was always  _there._

 

 Lestrade didn’t care how he had Victor. In fact, he was just pleased that he had him in the first place. He’d always instinctually thought of Sherlock as a proper prospect for a family, but Victor had been a non-negotiable addition. Lestrade wouldn’t lose him for the world, especially not over some tattoos.

 

He traced them fondly while Victor slept, he watched the devotion that Victor had in taking care of them and touching them up. He encouraged Victor to continue adding bees, and he tried very much not to think about how he’d like to add a design of his own.

 

Almost a full year to the day that Lestrade had first lowered his mouth to Victor’s neck and claimed him as his own, the younger man came back from India for a visit. Sherlock was off chasing after a thief for a private client, and so Lestrade picked Victor up from the airport.

 

He smiled when he saw him approach, bronzed from his time in the Indian sun, and looking far healthier than he usually did when he came home. Usually, he was pale and exhausted, burnt out and down trodden. Now, he was practically glowing. It was such an unbelievably perfect sight.

 

Lestrade pulled Victor in close, kissing him soundly before squeezing tight around his shoulders. “Missed you, lad.” He said honestly, ignoring an Alpha woman who made a disgusted sound at the sight of them together. Victor just smiled up at him.

 

“Me too, old man.” He teased. “I have something for you.”

 

“Do you?” Victor didn’t usually bring them presents. Except for tea. He kept bringing back endless amounts of tea in an effort to make them honestly tell him which ones tasted better.

 

“Mmhmm…I’ll have to show you later though.” Victor wagged his brows suggestively and Lestrade laughed.

 

“I suppose I better get you home then, shouldn’t I?” He asked Victor curiously.

 

“I think you better.” Victor agreed.

 

They hurried to the baggage claim and collected Victor’s belongings, before getting a car to leave. Victor chatted the whole while, talking about tea and exports and how the plantation was doing. He’d worked out the child-worker dispute by hiring their parents and older siblings in the younger one’s stead. So long as the parents showed proof that their children were attending school and being well looked after, they received three times the wage their children had made- and more than double what they had at other places. Profit had gone down, but Victor had kept his morals in tact.

 

Lestrade was proud of him. Endlessly proud of him. Every day was a new surprise, and Lestrade couldn’t help but smile whenever he thought of the work that Victor was accomplishing. He was always so far away, but it was worth it. He’d been responsible for giving those kids a life they never would have had without his help. It was remarkable.

 

They entered their flat together, slipping through the door and skipping up the steps. Sherlock had apparently caught his thief, or decided that a homecoming was actually important enough to take a few minutes of his time off his case, because he was in the sitting room when they walked in. “Oh good, you’re back. Have you shown him yet?”

 

“Not yet, spoil sport.” Victor told him, rolling his eyes as he pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s temple. It might have been initially intended for Sherlock’s lips, but he consultant turned at the last second and started to stand. Victor took a step back, giving him space if he wanted it, but it really had just been a miscommunication. Sherlock rolled his eyes and kissed his closest friend soundly for a good few seconds before pulling away.

 

“Go show him. I want to have sex, now and he’ll know soon enough.”

 

“There’s romance for you.” Victor scoffed, shaking his head. Lestrade wasn’t surprised Sherlock knew what Victor’s present was, the pair of them usually worked together on their gift-giving ideas. Last December they, very annoyingly, had spent hours talking in progressively more obscure languages to each other about Christmas presents right in front of Lestrade. He scowled at them all and had started learning Hindi in retaliation. (Victor corrected him firmly when he’d called it Indian last time. No one was impressed by his lack of proper cultural awareness).

 

“So what is it then?” He asked, looking to his young lovers as they gave each other the look he’d dubbed: Eyes of Mischief. They were both bad at hiding their amusement.

 

Victor reached towards the buttons on his plaid over-shirt, and quickly undid them. Removing it, he then tugged his undershirt over his head and stood patiently in front of him. There on his chest was an alteration on a very old, very dated, Lestrade family coat of arms. It  _looked_  similar, but there were obvious differences that were far more specific to their unique family unit. The shield was blue and gold. The color meanings flashed through his mind.  _Truth, loyalty, and elevation of the mind._ There was a bear on one side.  _Strength, cunning, ferocity in the protection of one’s kindred_. A buck on the other.  _One who will not fight unless provoked; peace and harmony._  And reaching out to connect both of them together was a circle of honey bees in a center ring.  _Unified family; Efficiency._

For a moment, Lestrade was certain he couldn’t breathe. His stared at the symbols in shock, and he felt like his legs would go out underneath him. “He’s going to faint-” Sherlock’s voice barely registered before Victor was moving. Strong arms caught Lestrade and carefully lowered him to the ground.

 

“I know you’re an old man and all, but you can’t go having a heart attack on us!” Victor scolded immediately. He was pale though, eyes blown wide with horror. One of his hands was reaching back to take hold of a shirt to pull back on and hide the new tattoo that resided just over his heart.

 

Lestrade reached out to stop him. “No.” He insisted, and Victor paused. He waited patiently as Lestrade carefully began to trace his fingers over the crest. It was perfect. So perfect.

 

He leaned forwards and tugged Victor down to kiss him. “Finally.” Sherlock mumbled, only a few feet away.

 

“Feeling impatient, Bee?” Victor asked, pulling away just enough to peer over his shoulder.

 

“Nonsense.” Sherlock replied, sinking down to sit next to them. “But it’s been far too long since we were all together.”

 

“Yes.” Lestrade nodded, pressing his palm against Victor’s new tattoo. It had already healed around the edges and the skin had started to look natural again. He’d gotten it a while ago. They hadn’t been there to notice, though Sherlock clearly had been told about it. “Yes it has.” He finished, looking at Victor fondly. “Thank you.” He said, knowing the words were hardly complete enough to cover what he meant. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome, Greg.” Victor replied, smiling one last time before kissing him soundly.

 

And just because Sherlock insisted: the sex that night was  _great_.


End file.
